


brother, where art thou

by Anonymous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Knifeplay, M/M, Multi, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sibling Incest, Sort of? - Freeform, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 01:56:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16358453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The Grandmaster will not say where Loki has gone.





	1. where

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Loxxlay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loxxlay/gifts).



> for #grandthorkiday on tumblr!

Somehow, the Grandmaster _knows_ , and dammit but Thor tries not to think about it too much.

Well, Thor tries not to think about any of it, really. Either the part where he is stranded on a world from which he can’t escape, or the part where Sakaar’s entire economy is determined by the most wretched kinds of scrapping, _or_ the part where the whole mess is presided over by the Grandmaster himself, a being whose jocularity and peculiar speech patterns mask a kind of power whose depths even Thor cannot quite fathom.

But most especially, Thor tries not to think about this: about _Loki_.

About how his brother (for that is who and what Loki is to Thor: is, and was, and always will be) actually ended up on this disaster of a world. About how Loki must have been greeted when he did crash land upon the junk heaps of Sakaar.

And he definitely, definitely tries not to think about what has become of Loki since then, for every time that Thor has seen his brother upon Sakaar, Loki is shadowing the Grandmaster and avoiding Thor’s gaze.

This is not like him. And it bothers Thor very much.

But anyway. It does not matter that Thor resolves not to think of or fear for his brother in these particular ways, because somehow the Grandmaster still _knows_ that he is worried and uncertain.  And worse, he seems cheerfully, smilingly, _gleefully_ determined to make Thor think of his brother even more – about how much Thor cares for Loki despite his recent deeds, how much Thor worries about Loki’s precarious position at the Grandmaster’s side, and how much Thor would give to see Loki safe and away from such a dangerous place.

And that is the worst part of it, really. Not only does the Grandmaster know this, but also, Thor cannot tell why it seems to matters to the leader of Sakaar so much.

In this world, Thor is only an arena fighter, and Loki is only –

Well, Thor doesn’t know who Loki is here, and he cannot get close enough to find out.

 

~ ~ ~

The Grandmaster’s nicknames – no, _pet_ names – began the very hour that Thor was brought before him for the first time.

 _Sparkles_ , he was dubbed, for the tiny streaks of lightning that were all he could summon when bound and inhibited. Then, soon after his first successful match, _Brute_ , and after the second-third-fourth- _fifth_ matches spent unwillingly beating other contenders into the dust, _Champ_ and _Sport_.  

And then there comes a day when Thor is pulled out of the fighters’ chambers after the afternoon’s match, led to a bath and told to wash and eventually brought nicer clothes than he has been given to wear in weeks. The attendants dab bright colors – stab-wound red and electric blue – around his eyes and down his nose and across the backs of his fingers, and the placement seems to signify something to them that Thor does not know, for they whisper and stare and will not meet his eyes.

Much like Loki has not been meeting his eyes either, come to think of it.

And Thor suspects that these supposed honors – a bath, a feast, a touch of color upon his face beyond the brutal markings that he wears in the arena – are not being granted to him because he has become the Grandmaster’s most celebrated fighter. But then, he cannot think of another reason why, and he has no quarrel with these slight beings who flutter around him at the Grandmaster’s whim. They do not deserve his ire: they are like him, in a way, only trying to survive as best they can.

And the feast that Thor is eventually led to provides no further clues either. He is seated at a high table with only the Grandmaster and the Grandmaster’s closest guards, and provided with as much food and drink as he asks, but. _But_. Beyond his suspicions of the general gesture Thor can gather no clearer idea of what is going on. His Allspeak cannot help him when the Grandmaster stands and speaks in a tongue it can parse but words that are coded in meanings unique to Sakaar. Then too, the small crowd that has gathered to feast with them and to listen to this unintelligible speech say little either, and Thor can take nothing from their fearful mutterings.

It is only when they have finished with the savory foods and are being served the sweet when Thor is finally able to put his finger on one of the nagging feelings of wrongness that clouds this entire charade of honor. This is the first time since coming to Sakaar that he has not seen Loki at the Grandmaster’s side.

His little brother is not perched atop the arm of the Grandmaster’s chair, or hovering just behind the Grandmaster’s seat or elbow, or bent over the Grandmaster’s arm whispering something in the Grandmaster’s ear. And for some reason this frightens Thor in a way that even the inexplicable favors, the adequate food, the unintelligible speech, or the fearful crowd have not been able to accomplish.

What, he wonders, has become of his brother?

“I actually, uhhh, _intend_ to explain,” the Grandmaster promises, when Thor finally pushes away his dish and his fears and risks asking about Loki. “But it’s going to be a, uhh, uhhhh, _surprise_ – yes, that’s it, a surprise! And it’s a surprise for _you_ , no less – for making me look good out there, flexing those nice muscles and working so hard. So, I thought to myself, shouldn’t I, uhhh, should be thanking _you_ as much as you, uhh, should be thanking _me?_ Yes, I thought, yes I should; and so, so I did. I planned a teeny tiny little mutual thank-you. For both of us.”

This doesn’t answer Thor’s question about where Loki is.

“Doesn’t – _doesn’t_ it, though?” the Grandmaster asks, and now he definitely sounds amused. “I, I’ve seen you _worrying_ about him, Champ, and I don’t like how that’s, ummm, _distracting_ you out there. You’re my prize fighter now, yes, and I can’t, can’t have you, just, like, _worrying_! Worrying worrying away – unnecessary, but there you are, doing it. So. You, uhhh, get to swing your hammer around a bit tonight, and then it’s back to the grind for you, got it?”

This still doesn’t answer Thor’s question about where Loki is.

“Tsk.” The Grandmaster actually clucks. “I, I wasn’t even done with my _dessert_ yet. You’re just so lucky – so so lucky – that I like you, Sport. And I like you a lot! All right, then. Let’s go. Hup hup!”

But when the Grandmaster stands, and hooks a hand into the crook of Thor’s elbow to get him standing too, none of his guards so much as move. And none of the guards follow them out when the Grandmaster leads the way from the dining hall, still chattering a lightyear a minute about how much he appreciates the way that Thor can use his biceps.

And this still hasn’t answered Thor’s questions about where Loki is.


	2. what

By the time they stop before an ornate chamber door, a fair ways away from that strange banquet of honor, the Grandmaster’s hands have moved from Thor’s elbow to his bicep, each curling around it as far as it can span. His appreciation of Thor and his abilities has also moved on.  

“Has anyone ever, uhhh, _told you_ , Sparkles, that you could do some real, uhhh, _damage_ with one of these things? Let alone, uhhh, _both_ of them. Whoo- _whee_ , just – whoowhee! I like them very much, very much indeed; yes, I do. I’ve had some champion fighters here representing Sakaar, y’know, but you – you really _are_ one of the best.”

And then they are through the door, and the question about where his brother is dies there atop Thor’s lips. Because –

Here. Loki is here.

Laid out across a sumptuous bed, blindfolded. Naked, with his legs spread and arms restrained above his head, ties that look like cloth but that have not torn despite his ongoing struggles.

What. _What._

Thor must make some sound at this completely unexpected sight because the Grandmaster turns to him, looks up the slight height difference between them, and grins. “Makes a pretty picture, doesn’t he?”

Thor is already shaking the Grandmaster’s hands off him and striding forward toward his brother – ready to free him, clothe him, shield him, and _demand some answers –_ when the ties that bind Loki to the bed, his limbs apart, shiver beneath some force that Thor cannot see, and Loki cries out in shock and pain, writhing between them.

 “Mmmmm,” the Grandmaster says, somewhere behind him. “Not _quite_ so fast, Champ.”

The ties only fall still when Thor stops in his tracks, still two steps away – two steps too far to free or redress his brother from this game he had not even realized that they would apparently be playing. And he can only watch, helpless, as Loki falls limp between them, shivering with invisible aftershocks.

The Grandmaster pats his bicep again, fond and possessive this time, as he walks past Thor and on toward the bed where Loki lies splayed and shivering. “The, ehhhh, _enthusiasm_ is much appreciated, Sport, but hey, you’ve got other things to do first. I like how they, uhhh, dolled you up for the occasion – someone’s getting a raise for that – but, uhhhh, I wanna see the goods on _both_ of you, not just him.”

What. Why. _WHAT_. _WHY_.

Thor isn’t going to – to strip down? That’s his brother? His younger brother?

“Adopted though, right?” The Grandmaster settles himself atop the sumptuous bed just above Loki’s head, graceful as a cat and his robes every bit as fluid as a tail. “I, uhhhh, seem to recall a lot of yammer yammer yammer about that on the ‘waves a while back. C’mon, Sparkles. Lighten up – heh, get it? – and lemme see what else you’ve got under those party clothes.”

Thor is not going to play this game – whatever it is.

“Up to you,” the Grandmaster says with an elegant shrug, leaning forward to smooth a possessive palm, fingers first, down Loki’s chest, his belly, his abdomen – and Loki _moans_ , arching beneath his hand as if trying to throw the Grandmaster off _._ “Though with a, a, a voice like _that_ – c’mon, Sparkles, we all have working cocks here, don’t we?”

This is so wrong that Thor does not even know where to begin his denials. It is obvious that Loki is not fully comfortable with something about this set-up. It is wrong that Thor, or anyone really, was brought into this scene when Loki did not know they would be coming. And again – _adopted or not_ , _Loki is Thor’s brother_!

“Like I said, it’s up to you,” the Grandmaster repeats, but with a sigh this time, as if Thor has disappointed him. “So you can, uhhhh, stop your _fussing_. If it’s not gonna be you, that’s fine, I’ll find someone else.”

Someone else?

“Though if I had just wanted someone to, you know, _fuck him_ , it would have been easy enough to just, _find someone_ , especially out here. No, no, no – he deserves better than that. And so do you, and so do I!”

 _What?_ Thor does not understand a whit of the Grandmaster’s intentions, and he is drowning in the implications of what he is being asked to do.

“Oh, please. Of all my toys, you two are my, hmmmm, _favorites_. Both pretty, both strong, both trying to keep my eye off the other – how was I possibly supposed to resist? Well, I wasn’t _going_ to, that’s how. And I, uhhh, want to see you two together. Playing – yes, _yes_. But see, the thing is – I don’t know, do I, how well that would _work_. So this is going to be our little, uhhh, uhhh – _test run_ , that’s the phrase I want, our little _test run_. To see how well you two play together.” 

Thor’s legs have locked, and he cannot move forward. He does not want to move forward. The Grandmaster cannot make him.

“Well, ummm, I _could_ , but, uhhhh, I won’t. Why? Because I know that you, Sparkles, will choose – all by your strong, pretty self – to walk over here, so you can make sure this is done right.” From somewhere, the Grandmaster has _produced a knife_ , and the edges of Thor’s vision go temporarily white as he leans forward again, this time tracing the tip of the blade down the same lines of Loki’s body that his palm had originally gone. And Loki is tugging wordlessly at the bonds again, his mouth stretching in a silent scream. Thor cannot even imagine what could possibly have conditioned him not to make noise in a situation such as this. . .

“Tonight, though,” the Grandmaster says idly, letting the tip of the blade rest against Loki’s abdomen and twirling the knife. “Tonight is, uhhh, just about making sure my toys are ready to play, like, next time. So. Why not, mmmm, help me here and, uhhhh, check for yourself that he’ll be ready the way you like him?”

This is already all too much, and the implication that it will happen again – and again, and again, as many times as the Grandmaster directs them – makes everything even worse. Thor takes the last two steps toward the bed, fully intending to pull the Grandmaster away from his brother and get them both out of this when –

He stops. Loki is panting as the tip of the Grandmaster’s knife rests delicate against his skin, where just a twist, a push, will drive it deep into his gut. And then there are the ties that electrocuted him before, and whatever it is of the Grandmaster’s own powers that make this alien being so sure of himself even against two Asgardians.

_(An Asgardian and a Jotun, something in the back of Thor’s mind murmurs, and he beats it back because that is not helpful right now and it does not matter anyway, Loki is his brother)_

And the Grandmaster smiles up at Thor, beatific, probably watching this debate play out across his face. “There’s a good boy, Sparkles. There’s a good, good boy.”


End file.
